The View From Here
by Lauren Wood, Session Vice-moderator
On July 21, I left for church on a gloomy day and found myself in the pouring rain. Sheets of water were coming down so hard that it was difficult to see through the deluge on the windshield. My traction lost its grip while I was going around a curve through deep puddles on the highway and I swerved—just missing the guardrail! I “white knuckle” drove the rest of the way—questioning my decision to attend church in-person when I could have stayed safe in my living room and watched the service online. “Why did I decide to attend in person today, of all days?” I grumbled.
Unprepared for the rain, I grabbed my broken umbrella and left the car while dancing around puddles—fruitlessly trying to keep my favorite leather sandals dry as I stumbled into the church. I stopped to get a towel to dry the raindrops off of my cold and shivering arms and—once again—wondered why I seem to always find myself in the pews on Sunday mornings instead of in the comfort of my home?
Then, as I entered the sanctuary, I realized why. I felt embraced by the warmth of the waiting congregation—each of whom “soldiered on” through the pouring rain to worship together. I was truly amazed at the nearly full seats—not as much as a typical Sunday, but nearly so. Then, I looked above and was swept up in the beauty of the sanctuary—my eyes drawn to the copper-colored cross high above us, stained-glass windows, warmth of the shiny oak wood platform and podium, and ever-present worship candles lighting the communion table. My racing heartbeat dropped, my ragged breathing became more rhythmic and my body relaxed as I settled into my church home while I listened to the apt hymn “There’s a Spirit of Love in This Place.”
As we all sat in the pews, the recent events in the news weighed heavily on our hearts. Our first hymn, “God of Grace and God of Glory”, ended in a reassuring, “Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of this hour.” I do sing the hymns out loud alone while watching the service online, but there is nothing like the power of our congregation’s collective voices raised in song to make the world right again. When we arrived, we were frightened, wondering where our nation was headed—and then we were given the gift of the “Assurance of God’s Love.”During this time of trouble we are reassured that we are loved and that we will continue to be loved throughout the coming months.
This week we had a story for the “A Word for all Ages” section. It was about a little girl who had “trouble listening,” and described Cynthia (who had just met the girl) as her “neighbor.” At home I find that I hear the stories on a more intellectual level and may have a little bit of trouble listening. In church I find that I am drawn into the stories such that I not only learn from them, I feel their message along with those around me.
The scripture and sermon centered around the Ten Commandments, set as guidelines in ancient times and taught nearly universally to children in every church and synagogue. These ancient teachings have risen to the forefront with controversy in recent weeks. As Cynthia spoke I could see the slight—nearly imperceptible—movement of heads nodding. I knew I was amongst understanding and compassionate souls.
My ears are not what they used to be. I find myself often turning up the volume and grumbling about the poor quality of some soundtracks. Yet, in the sanctuary the music is pure and unadulterated. I was truly amazed watching Tim Ward’s fingers fly as he played the piano—and the striking clear, crisp tones of both the piano and the organ (played by Cathleen Harris). I needed a cup of water to quell a tickle in my throat and tiptoed out of the sanctuary to go to the kitchen. As I walked to the kitchen, I noticed the live-cast of the service on the screen in the Social Hall. Having just been listening to the live service, I noticed that the sound was subtly different. I was surprised to find the individual notes easier to discern in the live performance.
After the formal service, Tim Ward graced us with his rendition of “Sposalizio”, by Franz Liszt. I was mesmerized, awed. I shook my head—once more—at the incredible array of talents expressed by our own congregation. The music was elegant and inspiring and, when finished, the entire congregation leapt to their feet in applause. While watching at home, I admit that I clap after a performance, but it doesn’t feel anywhere near the same as when I am part of a large group sharing its collective joy and appreciation.
Why do I “go to the trouble” and attend church in person? I guess I learned “why” writing this article. Both in-person and online services have their advantages and
disadvantages. I seem to experience the online service on a more intellectual level and find myself distracted with the dishes and laundry while listening. Though the messages are technically the same, I find that I can concentrate on the messages more fully in-person. I experience the service with a wider and deeper set of very welcome, uplifting, warm, and joyful emotions when listening to a service with my fellow congregants.
What do you think? Please stop me after the service and share your thoughts…